


the finest luck that you'll charm

by renaissance



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 06:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/pseuds/renaissance
Summary: Zacharias Smith has a reputation for being a bit of a smart-arse, which he repeatedly fails to uphold in Anthony's presence. Very odd.





	the finest luck that you'll charm

**Author's Note:**

> i should have written this fic about eight years ago. better late than never, right? i really have been nursing some of these headcanons for that long. i also should have written this before i wrote a novel which incidentally featured this ship, but, well, what can you do. in many ways this is a letter to my past self: look! the dynamic you're searching for is right in front of you!
> 
> i had left this unfinished some time ago, lacking inspiration, but i've been rereading hp and a particular scene in ootp slapped me in the face with an ending. you'll know which one. let's call it seasonal?!
> 
> title is from "cargill" by king creosote via the note i keep on my phone of all the song lines i want to use as fic titles. first line of the fic is lifted directly from ootp, sorry not sorry jkr, this is my manifesto.

Something very odd was happening to Zacharias Smith. Anthony would prime his wand for waving in the pattern for _Expelliarmus_ , one he’d practised over and again, but before he’d so much as opened his mouth Zacharias’ wand would go flying out of his hand. This happened three times before Anthony deemed it untenable and decided to get to the bottom of it.

“I know I’m charming,” he joked, “but I never knew I could do _this_.”

“It’s not you,” Zacharias said very quickly. “I mean—I’m sure you’re very charming, that’s not what I meant—I think someone else is doing it.”

Anthony had to laugh. “Of course someone else is doing it. I was kidding.”

“Oh,” Zacharias said. He pursed his lips in a straight line, and did not say anything else.

The culprits were easy enough to spot—their training space was like a cathedral’s crypt, low vaulted ceilings held up by great stone pillars, and hiding behind one of them were the Weasley twins, practising not on each other but on Zacharias, from a distance.

Anthony did not find it funny.

“You two seem good at this already,” he said. “Maybe you can quit it.”

He wondered if he ought to be more intimidated, by their reputation if nothing else. But then again, the twins were troublemakers, and Anthony was a Prefect. If anything, they ought to be intimidated by him.

“Just having a bit of fun,” one of them said. Anthony couldn’t tell which was which.

“That’s right,” the other said. “No harm meant.”

In fact, it took Harry Potter telling them off to convince them to stop, but Anthony fancied his authority had something to do with it too. Satisfied, he returned to Zacharias, who for his part had gone oddly quiet.

This was someone else with a reputation—Zacharias was the bad boy of Hufflepuff, insofar as Hufflepuffs could ever be considered _bad_ , because he had a sharp tongue and wasn’t afraid to hurt feelings. Case in point, that first meeting at the Hog’s Head. The twins had picked on him then, too.

But Anthony didn’t know Zacharias very well at all. They had worked together in potions a couple of times, where Zacharias was quiet and proficient and never said more than he needed to. Anthony had always found this passingly strange, because whenever Michael and Terry had been stuck working with Zacharias in some class or other, they said he took every opportunity to say something rude to them. This, Anthony supposed, was why he was a Prefect, and Michael and Terry were not.

“Thanks for that,” Zacharias said.

“Not a problem,” Anthony said. “I can’t stand it when—”

Well, it wasn’t bullying as insidious as he’d had the misfortune to experience at the Muggle schools he went to before Hogwarts, but it nevertheless rubbed him the wrong way.

“—when people do stuff like that,” he finished lamely. He adjusted his yarmulke for something to do with his hands.

Zacharias, if he picked up on Anthony’s hesitation, did not comment. “Go on, then. Disarm me.”

 

* * *

 

It seemed like Zacharias Smith was a veritable magnet for odd things, little inexplicable curiosities that followed him around and altered his behaviour in near-imperceptible ways.

Luckily, Anthony had always been a very observant person.

In the second meeting of Dumbledore’s Army—“Stupid name,” Zacharias had said, catching up to Anthony and the others as they walked to the Room of Requirement, “so bloody self-congratulatory,”—the two of them ended up working together again, practising _Impedimenta_. Anthony wasn’t overly fond of the idea of being forced to slow down—he thought it might be a bit like walking through the middling end of a swimming pool but filled with honey instead of water—so he volunteered to go first this time.

The problem was, Zacharias didn’t seem to be able to perform the spell at all. He opened his mouth and stuttered out the jinx and haphazardly waved his wand. It was amateurish, sloppy. There was no way Zacharias would’ve made it to fifth year without being able to cast a simple jinx.

“Is everything alright?” Anthony asked. He often prided himself on his delicacy, but when Zacharias didn’t answer, he decided to push it a bit, talk to Zacharias in the way he was supposed to talk to other people. “You’re casting like a fucking first year.”

At least Zacharias cracked a smile at that. It faded fast, though. “Leave off. I’ll get there.”

“Are you—oh, someone isn’t performing it on you, are they? Not again. I bet it’s the bloody Weasley twins.”

“No, I’m—”

In hindsight, it was so obvious. “I’ll find them,” Anthony says. “This behaviour is so distracting, and quite frankly a—”

“ _Impedimenta_!”

Everything stalled at once; Anthony’s limbs slowed to a crawl, and he tried to move forward but something sticky and excruciating was holding him back. It was every bit as unpleasant as he’d imagined it being.

“Actually,” Zacharias mumbled, “I’m bloody good at jinxes.”

When the effects wore off, Anthony finally managed to turn back to face Zacharias—who was, surprisingly, blushing. Trust someone with a reputation to be full of surprises. Anthony would be blushing too if he were that good at the Impediment Jinx.

“You are,” he agreed. “So how about we never do that again? Bloody hell, but it’s uncomfortable. I suppose you already know what it feels like, but do you mind if I try it on you? Just once?”

“I wasn’t, er—I wasn’t under the effects of the jinx,” Zacharias stammered.

“Oh,” Anthony said.

“So try it on me.”

Anthony did—he raised his wand and, although his wandwork had always been substandard, he managed it on only his second try, and he and Zacharias both agreed they’d had quite enough of this jinx and didn’t need to work on it again, thank you very much.

 

* * *

 

Anthony assumed that would be it. Maybe Zacharias got nervous under pressure. Maybe he needed a push to get his blood running. Maybe it was the DA, because there were so many people there who were so hostile towards him.

The next time they were in each other’s company, though, was in the Arithmancy class they shared. Arithmancy only had eight students enrolled—it was officially the most unpopular subject for their cohort—so everyone in the class knew each other and chatted easily, with the general exception of Zacharias, who sat up the back and never said a word. Anthony had always assumed that this was because he was, generally speaking, a bit of a bell-end. But after that second DA meeting, in Thursday afternoon Arithmancy, Zacharias came and sat in the front row, right next to Anthony, and said nothing at all.

“Um,” Anthony tried. There were still a few minutes before Professor Vector would arrive. “Hello… ?”

“Whatever,” Zacharias said. “I’m not here to socialise.” Even he must have found that weird, though, because after a brief pause he added, “Unless you particularly want to.”

“I don’t mind,” Anthony said, amused. “Personally, I also come to class with a mind to pay attention and take notes and, you know, not spend the whole hour gossiping.”

Apropos of nothing, Zacharias said, “I think I need glasses.”

“You what?”

“Need glasses,” Zacharias said. “For my eyes. Not sure I can see so well from the back row; that’s why I’m sitting in the front.”

“Right.” Anthony took his own glasses off and fiddled with the arms. “Shortsighted, right? Do you want to try mine?”

“Try your—”

“Glasses, yes.”

This conversation was going absolutely nowhere. Was Zacharias always this painful a conversationalist? Where were all the witty comebacks Anthony had been promised? Impatient, he grabbed Zacharias by the chin and turned his face so they were eye to eye, fixing his glasses onto the bridge of Zacharias’ nose.

Zacharias went very red and screwed his eyes shut; Anthony let his hand drop. It was just as well he did, because when Zacharias opened his eyes again he flinched back almost straight away.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re blind,” Zacharias said, scrambling to get the glasses off his face.

“No, I’m not,” Anthony said. “And you’re probably not that bad either, if that’s your reaction to my prescription.”

Also, although he wouldn’t note it out loud, he found the fact that Zacharias swore like a Muggle weirdly attractive.

“So I guess there’s no real reason for you to sit in the front row, after all,” Anthony added.

He was half teasing, half seeing how far he could go before Zacharias cracked and said something seriously rude to him. After hearing Zacharias swear, Anthony badly wanted that to happen. He wanted the worst of the worst, he wanted crude and offensive and the kind of thing that gives someone a really rotten reputation.

But all Zacharias said was, “I guess not,” and stayed exactly where he was.

 

* * *

 

To be honest, it was starting to get on Anthony’s nerves.

“I can’t deal with him,” Michael said after one particularly long and torturous Potions lesson. “If I ever have to so much as work at the same bench as Zacharias fucking Smith again, I’m going to poison him myself.”

Anthony and Padma had got into class late from Prefect duty—which had nevertheless lost them each five points from Snape—so they ended up working at a bench with Sally-Anne and Megan, whereas Michael and Terry had somehow got stuck with Wayne and Zacharias.

“You’d get a pretty long Azkaban sentence for that,” Anthony said.

“I don’t know how you put up with him in the DA,” Terry said. “Every time I went to put something in our cauldron he’d say something like, ‘Watch your fingers, Boot.’ You’d think it’d get old to him, but no! And then when I told him to shut up, he said it wasn’t his fault I confused my hands with toast at breakfast every morning.”

Anthony snorted, refraining from laughing properly only because of the look his friends gave him. He’d definitely been missing out on Zacharias’ greatest hits. “Is that really what he said?”

“There was a lot more swearing,” Terry said.

“And then he said that maybe the reason my stirring was so tense was because I couldn’t get a girlfriend,” Michael said. “Can you imagine the nerve of it? He _knows_ I have a girlfriend. And Ginny hates him too!”

“Seriously, Ant,” Terry said, “how do you do it? How do you work with him and not come out of it wanting to kill him?”

“Or are you just better at hiding it?” Michael added.

“I—”

Anthony paused. He wasn’t sure how to phrase this; Zacharias had clearly been horrid to Michael and Terry, and in Section 4, Subsection 7c of the Boot-Corner-Goldstein Friendship Charter was a clause on supporting the other signatories through friendship and other social troubles (relationship troubles were in Section 5), even if you happened to be friends with the person causing said troubles.

Michael sighed. “Spit it out.”

“Section 1, Subsection 2a,” Terry said. “No secrets between friends.”

“I do hate it when the rules conflict each other,” Anthony said. “To be honest, he’s perfectly cordial to me. I mean, he’s kind of obtuse sometimes, but he’s never been downright awful to me like he is to you two. And, um, everyone else, apparently… ?”

For once, Terry and Michael looked to be at a complete loss for words.

“I’ve wondered if it’s because I’m a Prefect,” Anthony mused.

“He probably hates you so much he doesn’t even bother,” Michael said eventually, although he didn’t sound so sure of it himself.

“I don’t think so,” Terry said—he was very good at missing nuance and taking people at face value. “I wonder if maybe he actually likes Ant.”

“As if a curmudgeon like Smith is capable of experiencing positive emotions,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “I doubt he’s ever liked anyone. Does he even have friends in his own house?”

This was giving Anthony ideas—he’d been waiting for Zacharias to make some sort of move, to get as horrible as people thought he was, when maybe all along Zacharias had been waiting on Anthony, too. Maybe he didn’t know how to make friends, and Anthony was the only person who’d really given him a chance. All it would take was a little more effort on Anthony’s part to get Zacharias to open up to him.

“Actually,” Terry said, “I meant _like_ like.”

 

* * *

 

It was impossible. Surely it was! No-one would have a crush on Anthony Goldstein. He was a Prefect, but he didn’t know how to flaunt his authority, how to be imposing. He was intelligent, but he was far better at writing essays than wand-waving, and although he had stubbornly worked at it, Hermione Granger was _still_ top of the grade. He was tall, but nowhere near as tall as Zacharias, and he was okay looking, if you liked boys with heavy glasses and long, pointy noses.

Zacharias didn’t need glasses and he had a small and perfectly formed nose, not that Anthony was thinking about his nose, because he didn’t have a crush, and also, that would be weird.

Nevertheless, after his discussion with Michael and Terry, Anthony was more aware of his every action around Zacharias, and as a result, they were both acting weird and there was nothing Anthony could do to snap himself out of it.

Hufflepuff had lost to Ravenclaw and, although they were playing the thoroughly depleted Gryffindor team next, Zacharias was focusing less and less on the DA and schoolwork. On the bright side, this meant that, whenever their paths crossed, Zacharias was distracted enough that he didn’t talk to Anthony much, and this made it very hard for Anthony’s not-a-crush to fester. On the other hand, Zacharias was always sweaty and half-out of his ugly yellow Quidditch robes, and it was much harder for Anthony to ignore his lizard brain than his rational objection to—whatever this was meant to be.

It was on one particularly muggy evening, and Anthony happened to be facing in the direction of the Hufflepuff table when their Quidditch team came in from practice, still wearing their sporting robes, hair stuck to their faces with sweat.

“What’s caught your eye, then?” Michael asked. He and Terry both had their backs to the Hufflepuff table.

“Nothing,” Anthony said.

He must have been too quick, because Michael and Terry both turned inward to look over their shoulders, heads nearly butting together.

“Oh,” Terry said sagely, “you’re fretting about Smith, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t say _fretting_ , I’m just—” Anthony paused, collecting his thoughts. “Not sure what to make of it.”

“Come off it,” Michael said. “You practically tripped over your own feet to work with him in Potions this morning. I think you know exactly what to make of it.”

Anthony frowned, because objectively Michael was right, but subjectively he didn’t _want_ Michael to be right. Impulsively, he said, “I’ll prove it. There’s no way he fancies me. No way. I’ll show you.”

Before either of them could so much as ask how, Anthony was pushing his plate away—more a tokenistic gesture than anything else—and getting up to go over to the Hufflepuff table. And, of course, the others were following. But never mind them. Anthony hadn’t decided how exactly he was going to prove conclusively that Zacharias didn’t fancy him, but he knew it would have the desired effect when he did: he would prove to himself that _he_ didn’t fancy Zacharias, and quite frankly, that mattered more to him.

“Evening, Zacharias,” he said, sounding far too much like a Prefect for his own taste.

Zacharias looked at Anthony, open-mouthed, for ten solid seconds. “You, uh—not your—this isn’t your table.”

So far, he was not doing a very good job of proving Anthony wrong.

“I am aware,” Anthony said. “I have to settle something, and I was hoping you’d help me. Would you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?”

“Yes, I’d like th—” Zacharias narrowed his eyes. “What does this have to do with settling anything?”

Summoning what courage he had, Anthony said, “My friends have this stupid idea that you fancy me, and I—did you say yes?”

But he did not get a response, because Zacharias was getting back to his feet and walking away from the tables and towards the Entrance Hall, back the way he’d come in, dinner untouched.

“Oh,” Anthony said, very quietly.

Everyone was looking at him. “Jeez, Goldstein, you blew it,” Wayne said. Ernie clicked his tongue. Hannah shook her head. Michael looked like he’d been slapped and Terry was seconds away from laughter. Anthony felt like if a hole opened up in the ground and sucked him through, leaving no trace that he’d ever existed, he would say, “Thank you.”

By the time he’d got it together and dashed outside to find Zacharias, he was long gone, and the night had grown too dark to see without light. Anthony, defeated, avoided the Great Hall on the route back to Ravenclaw Tower.

 

* * *

 

Class felt very quiet the next days. It wasn’t as though Anthony shared many classes with Zacharias, but those he did share now came with a deep and unfortunately explicable sense of absence; impossibly, Anthony had wound up accustomed to Zacharias’ odd presence in his life. This, he knew, was the very definition of friendship, but that didn’t stop him from considering more.

Maybe it wasn’t Anthony’s fault—maybe it was Quidditch, maybe it was homework—that Zacharias was around even less. Either way, it was an irrevocably shit situation. Most days Zacharias didn’t even eat in the Great Hall with everyone. He certainly never studied in the library, not that Anthony was hanging around there, just in case.

He’d really blown his chance.

“The way I see it,” Michael said, “you have until the weekend to make it up with him.”

“That’s right!” Terry was doing his best to be encouraging too. “You can go on that Hogsmeade date after all.”

“Not helping,” Anthony said. It was all well and good to hope, but the weekend was only two days away now, and Zacharias had shown no signs of ever talking to Anthony again, which was no less than Anthony deserved.

They were out in one of the courtyards, cloistered away from the whipping rain and wind. It felt like the perfect weather to fit Anthony’s mood. He was considering becoming a poet. That would suit his mood, too. He’d tough it out to finish Hogwarts and then he’d go on a grand tour of the Continent and ruin himself with fine wine and handsome men.

First he’d have to get through the week.

“It doesn’t need to be as hard as you’re making it,” Michael said. “Just… apologise to him. Tell him you fancy him. You do fancy him, right?”

“Of course I fancy him,” Anthony said, because there was no point denying it any longer. “And that’s easy for you to say. You have a girlfriend.”

“He’s got a point,” Terry said.

“I know I do,” Michael said.

Terry shook his head. “I meant Ant. You have a girlfriend, Mike, you’re hardly an authority on romantic screw-ups.”

There was definitely something in the friendship charter about that, but Anthony hadn’t bothered memorising the bits about dating. He’d never expected them to apply to him. “Well I’ll have to talk to Zacharias eventually,” he reasoned, thinking aloud. “Who else will he work with in the DA?”

Michael slapped Anthony on the back. “That’s the spirit. So why don’t we—”

He stopped. They all stopped. There was Zacharias in his Quidditch robes, dashing across the courtyard through the rain, and there was Anthony, sitting there with his mouth open like a total idiot.

“Now’s your chance.”

It might’ve been Terry or Michael who said it; Anthony couldn’t say. He got to his feet, but he felt frozen, useless. Before he knew what he was doing he had his wand out, pointed right in Zacharias’ direction.

“ _Impedimenta_!”

“Wow.” That was definitely Michael. “You’re an embarrassment. I can’t watch this.”

“Please don’t watch this,” Anthony said under his breath. Then, he shouted, “Sorry, Zach! I’m sorry! I just—wanted to talk—”

Slowly, Zacharias turned around. Michael and Terry were gone. The courtyard was empty but for the two of them and all this rain. Anthony was getting soaking wet and he felt like he’d been victim of an Impediment Jinx too. He watched as Zacharias came to, and took the delay as his chance.

“When I spoke to you over dinner the other night, I didn’t think there was any way someone like you could fancy someone like me! I wasn’t joking around, but… well, I don’t suppose you do now, if you ever did. I would like to go to Hogsmeade with you. On a date. I think I’ve ruined it, though.”

“Did you really think—” Zacharias could move again, and he took strides towards Anthony, “—that there was any way I _couldn’t_ like you?”

Anthony’s jaw flopped downwards. “Huh?”

“I’ve liked you for months now! Even before we started working together this year I always figured you’d be the kind of person who’d give me a chance, when everyone else seems to think I’m some kind of irredeemable villain. And you were.”

“People don’t like you for a reason, you know. It’s because you’re rude to them.” Flustered, Anthony added, “I mean—I like you too… ?”

“You’re so dense!” Zacharias stopped short a few inches away from Anthony. “I don’t want to go to Hogsmeade with you. I thought you’d be so much nicer than this.”

Alright, now Anthony was annoyed. “Can you even hear yourself? Terry and Mike are always telling me how cruel you are to them, and to everyone else, every single Weasley hates you, for whatever reason, and it’s like you’ve taken against Potter for no reason! If I’m being rude to you, it’s only because you’re so ghastly to everyone else!”

Zacharias’ shoulders slumped. Oh, no. No, no, Anthony hadn’t meant for that to come out so harsh.

“You’re right, I suppose,” Zacharias said.

“Wait,” Anthony said, “did you say you had a crush on me before you so much as knew me?”

“ _That’s_ what you’re—”

“Because I knew so much about you, everyone said you were this horrible, nasty guy, and then I met you, and—none of that seemed true. You were always friendly to me. Friendly, if a little odd sometimes. Like how you couldn’t cast the Impediment Jinx on me! Was that really because you like me?”

Zacharias had gone bright red. There was a bead of water dripping off the tip of his nose. “I—yes? No, I don’t like you! I’m not putting up with this. Do whatever you want this weekend. I’m not falling for it this time.”

“Fine,” Anthony said. “If you can’t make up your mind, then that’s your fault. Go back to being a weirdo around everyone else.”

“I will,” Zacharias said. “See if I care.”

But Anthony got the feeling that Zacharias did care. He knew _he_ cared, although he wasn’t sure why, since Zacharias really was very unpersonable. If they ever sorted this out—not now, some sunny day, maybe—then it would be because they deserved each other.

 

* * *

 

The weekend arrived, and Anthony was dreading the Hogsmeade visit like nothing else, no exam, no incidental confession. It wasn’t as though he had any concrete reason to be dreading it—Hogsmeade was a sizeable village, and his chances of running into Zacharias were slim. Besides, Zacharias might be busy with Quidditch practise. He might not come at all.

“Maybe I won’t go at all.”

“Oh, Ant,” Terry said.

Anthony kept waiting for him to add something else, but he didn’t. So he went on: “I don’t even need to get out of bed, really. It’s just Hogsmeade. I’ve been to Hogsmeade plenty of times.”

Michael and Terry were sitting at the foot of his bed, both of them already dressed in warm coats and ready to go. “This doesn’t need to be hard,” Michael said. “It would be even easier if you apologised to Smith—”

“Not a chance,” Anthony said, sinking further below his covers. “I’ve already blown it.”

He hadn’t told them exactly how it happened, only that he and Zacharias had argued, and that it hadn’t ended well. That was all they needed to know. After that argument, there was no way the situation would escalate any further. Anthony would find a new partner in the DA. Zacharias would stop bothering him in potions. Everyone wins.

“I don’t want to give you false hope,” Michael began, “but I was talking to Ernie at breakfast this morning, who said that Zacharias has been moping ever since you argued, and that they’re going to drag him out to Hogsmeade to smooth everything over. We were hoping to do the same for you.”

“And if you happen to run into each other while we’re all there,” Terry said, “then…”

Anthony pulled himself out from under his covers so that he was sitting upright, and sighed. “Look, I get it. You want to get us at least talking to each other so that things aren’t awkward anymore.”

“We want you to get together,” Michael amended. “Section 5, Subsection 1b—”

“—the swift and optimistic conclusion to each signatory’s romantic attachments is in the best interests of the other signatories.” Anthony was certain he was blushing; he’d brushed up on Section 5 recently. “Well, that’s not going to happen either.The ship has sailed. The owl has left the tower. I know you’re trying to be helpful, but… leave off for now, alright?”

Fortunately, that did the trick. Terry and Michael—particularly Michael—might’ve been pains in the arse when they wanted to be, but they also knew Anthony’s limits and knew that they shouldn’t push, not on this one. Anthony stayed in bed for a while longer, and when he got bored of sitting still he forced himself to dress and shower, and maybe he’d duck down to the kitchens and see if he could pick up some food.

The one problem with the kitchens was their proximity to the Hufflepuff dorms. Anthony was just getting to the kitchens when he came face to face with Zacharias, right at the portrait of the pears—maybe he’d skipped breakfast too.

Stupidly, Anthony said, “I thought Ernie was going to drag you out to Hogsmeade.”

“Ernie told me Michael was going to drag _you_ out.”

“Michael’s such a tool,” Anthony said. “I bet he planned this.”

Zacharias laughed, but he looked guilty a second later, wringing his hands together. “Reverse psychology?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Now that they were here, it seemed like they didn’t have anything to each other. As Anthony had anticipated. He cleared his throat. “Well, I guess I’ll—”

“Sorry.”

Zacharias was looking away now, but his words couldn’t have been any clearer; which was strange, because Anthony was the one who needed to apologise.

“For what?”

“Forget it,” Zacharias said. “Let’s start over. Can we? I don’t want to be fighting with the only person who puts up with me.”

“Surely not,” Anthony said, although he had guessed as much. “There must be other people who like you. Ernie—”

“Hates my guts because I rag on him all the time. Nothing personal. I’m the only person Justin’s ever sworn at. Nearly dropped the f-bomb, poor dear. Wayne still isn’t over that time in second year when I sabotaged our potion specifically so that I would get detention on the night that Lockhart set up his duelling club. Do you want me to go on?”

Anthony grimaced. “I think I get the picture.”

“So let’s pretend that I don’t think you’re seriously fit—”

“You _what_ —”

“—and let’s just be friends. Alright?”

Anthony desperately wanted to argue that point—did Zacharias really think he was good-looking?—but he was also wary of taking this too quickly when he’d screwed it up so badly before. He swallowed, nodded. One step at a time.

“Did you also skip breakfast?” he asked.

Zacharias relaxed visibly. “Yeah. Wasn’t feeling up to it.” He reached up and tickled the pear like he did this all the time, and they went into the kitchens together. Which, for now, was enough.

 

* * *

 

They were revising the Impediment Jinx for the first ten minutes of the meeting and then moving back to Stunning Spells. Zacharias had made it very clear that he wished he wasn’t at this DA meeting if all they were doing was revising, which was fine for him, because his wandwork was very precise and confident—when he was able to let himself be malicious enough to pull it off. Anthony was also dying to leave, but for different reasons.

Simply put, it was Christmas. Someone with a sick sense of humour—Anthony wondered if it was the Weasley twins—had decorated the Room of Requirement with mistletoe. There was nothing inherently wrong with mistletoe. It was a very pretty plant, if one put aside the Christian cultural imperialism which continued to rear its irritatingly persistent head in the Wizarding World at large. Anthony didn’t even mind the tradition of kissing beneath it. The problem was more that there was someone he wanted to kiss and this was the kind of work that required a fair bit of moving around, and what if this mistletoe was enchanted? Even if it wasn’t, it was like the mistletoe was staring him down, daring him to act.

“Don’t tell me you’re going soft, Goldstein,” Zacharias said. “I got over this.”

That was the other thing. Zacharias was acting like none of it had happened. When he said he “got over” it, did he not fancy Anthony anymore? That would be disappointing, since Anthony’s crush had well and truly got away from him, and quite badly, at that.

“Sorry,” Anthony said. “Just thinking. Let me try again.”

“I know you can perform an Impediment Jinx on me. And a bloody good one, at that.”

“Don’t remind me,” Anthony said.

“I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Zacharias said. “To be honest, it’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Anthony raised his wand, smirking. It was the only way he knew how to deal with this. “Oh yes? Not that time Justin nearly called you a motherfucker?”

“I told you about that in confidence. At least I’ve never mistaken a stroll through the courtyard for a duel.”

“Not that you would know how to duel, since you skipped out on duelling club in second year.”

“I would’ve learnt _so_ much.”

“Oh, so you’re finally admitting that Potter taught you something?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Michael said—he had paused while Ginny was frozen by the jinx—“can you two stop bickering? It’s giving me a hernia.”

“I’m sure Madam Pomfrey can help you with that,” Zacharias said, smiling benignly, “once she’s done dealing with that hideous protuberance coming out of the top of your neck.”

Anthony would have said something to stop Michael from flying off the handle, but Potter chose that moment to call out, “Alright, switch to Stunning Spells now!”

“Lucky,” Anthony said. “I won’t have to impede you after all.”

“Then you can have the first go at stunning,” Zacharias said. “Do your worst.”

“Let’s move somewhere less crowded,” Anthony suggested.

He’d have liked to make it to Chanukah without Michael and Zacharias killing each other. But, apart from that, he was more comfortable about it now. He could keep up in a match of back-and-forth with Zacharias, which was, by all accounts, usually just forth when other people were concerned, and the realisation gave Anthony a boost in confidence.

Zacharias nodded and started walking a few paces ahead of Anthony—then, something very odd happened. Over the noise of the room there was no way Anthony would’ve heard an individual spell being cast, but someone must have let a rogue _Stupefy_ fly, because Zacharias collapsed backwards and there was nothing Anthony could do but catch him.

He felt like someone had cast an Impediment Jinx on him. Zacharias was heavy, and they were standing right beneath a sprig of mistletoe.

A moment later Michael was passing by, and he cast _Rennervate_ on Zacharias. “Sorry about that, Ant. That was so satisfying.”

“Bastard,” Anthony said weakly.

“Thanks for catching me,” Zacharias said, making no effort to move. “I didn’t realise you had such strong arms. Very impressive. Pity your wand wrist can’t quite keep up.”

Anthony couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks for not acting strangely around me anymore.”

“You’d really rather I’m an arse to you?”

“Any day.”

“Well, maybe it’s for the best that we’re not—” Zacharias tipped his head back, looking right up at Anthony. “Oh. Mistletoe.”

“I’d kiss you, but it’s against my religion,” Anthony said.

But he was already in an illegal underground defensive magic club; what was one little act of disobedience beside that?

Anthony leant down and kissed Zacharias. The angle was terrible. Anthony’s chin knocked against Zacharias’ nose, and Zacharias tried to grab at the back of Anthony’s head to steady himself and ended up knocking Anthony’s yarmulke off.

The kiss was only brief. There were twenty-six other people in the room, and at least some of them were watching. Zacharias stood upright and brushed down the front of his robes, extremely red in the face.

“So, what were you saying?” Anthony said calmly. “That it’s for the best we’re not… ?”

“Changed my mind,” Zacharias said. “I think you’re charming. Let’s not be friends.”

Anthony took a few paces back, holding out his wand and grinning giddily. “I guess that makes us rivals. Ready to stun me?”

“I have been told I’m rather stunning,” Zacharias said.

“Then,” Anthony said, spreading his arms, “take me out.”

Zacharias did not miss the double meaning.


End file.
